


Beneath the Waves

by athena_crikey



Category: Hawaii Five-O (1968)
Genre: Drowning, Gen, Vignette, deafness, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 20:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: Danny practically had salt water in his veins, and he knew better than anyone how cruel the sea could be.





	Beneath the Waves

The world went from colour to monochrome as Danny hit the water, slipping beneath its surface in the skin of a second. His eyes were open the moment he was submerged, plunging downwards with strong strokes towards the figure sinking rapidly into the darkness below him. He grabbed hold of a leg and felt himself pulled down by the weight of the body, by the weight strapped to the body. 

George Addams was just a kid, but that had never stopped anyone getting hooked on H, and he had run into trouble – bad trouble – with his suppliers after sticking them for one too many payments. His father, a wealthy mainlander doing a stint in his company’s Honolulu office, had come to 5-0 to try to get the heat off his son. Unfortunately, by the time Danny and HPD found George, the hoods were shoving him over the side of a boat with a jerry can strapped to his chest. 

Above the waterline the HPD officers were raiding the boat now, going in hard after the dealers. And Danny was sinking rapidly to the bottom of the harbour, its sandy floor a good twenty yards beneath the surface. 

George was kicking frantically, trying to flail but impeded by the leather grips strapping the weight to him. Danny yanked hard at the straps and found no give. His ears began to ache, then to burn, and finally to burst with pain, the intensity of it causing him to bite his tongue to keep from losing valuable air. Divers descended slowly to keep the pressure from rupturing their eardrums, but that wasn’t an option. The pain grew so intense he thought his skull would fracture with it, and then an instant later he felt his eardrums burst, the rush of noise and pressure suddenly disappearing. 

The pain lowered a fraction, and in the tiny reprieve Danny dug his knife out of his pocket and flicked it open and began sawing at the leather straps. George was flipping like a beached fish, air beginning to bubble up out of his nose and mouth. Only seconds left, now. 

Danny cut through the first strap, then the second, and felt the weight of the can drop away from them. His kicking took effect, and together he and the boy began to rise towards the surface again, swimming up towards the light. 

His lungs were burning now, head pounding. There was a fire inside his ears that the water had done nothing to quench, and his vision was beginning to blur. His thoughts were beginning to bleed together, beginning to be subsumed by the single overwhelming need to breathe. Beside him George gave a massive, desperate storm of kicks and punches, and then went still. Danny grabbed him around the chest and continued to rise, fought for the blue sky above, for light, for air. 

He breached the surface with a huge gasp, coughing and tasting salt and blood. He couldn’t see properly, blinded in part by the sun and in part by oxygen loss. Staying afloat was a struggle; staying afloat while keeping George’s head above the water felt almost impossible. 

Then there were other men in the water with him, dark forms appearing in his confused line of sight; George was hauled from his grip and away. Danny sank beneath the surface once, fought back up, and sank again. His head was awash with pain, his lungs on fire. Someone grabbed him around the chest and pulled him up, struck out for the pier with him in tow. 

Water washed over his head, into his eyes and mouth as he was pulled to the pier and hoisted out; he retained enough awareness to help clamber out, coughing as he scrambled out onto the wood on all fours. The pier’s surface was sun-warmed under his palms, the planks rough and uneven. He fell onto his side and lay there, his sole focus on breathing. 

The world was a bright kaleidoscope of colour, from the blue sky above to the green palms on the shore to the black of HPD’s uniforms. Men were rushing back and forth, the dock was swaying with the movement of the ocean, the wind was fanning palm fronds outwards. Danny lay and watched as beside him, two men worked on George Addams, tried to pump air – to pump life – back into him. Officers were waving frantically towards the shore, feet pounding on the pier, mouths opening and closing. 

Danny’s ears were ringing so loudly he couldn’t properly hear any of it, couldn’t make out the shouting or the footsteps, the wind or the waves or the gulls overhead. The pain in his head was fading, replaced by an uncomfortable stinging from the salt water in his ears, but even lying still on the dock the world seemed to be spinning. His stomach was upset, full of salt water and prodded into nausea by his dizziness. He stayed where he was and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. 

He saw two HPD officers lift George Addams and carry him off the pier. He saw the three drug dealers led down to the shore in handcuffs. And he saw the black Mercury arrive, Steve appearing in a blue suit to hurry across the grass and concrete that separated the land from the water. 

Danny tried to pull himself up, limbs clumsy and head spinning. He was still only halfway up when Steve arrived at his side to drop a hand on his shoulder. When Steve spoke, he heard at least a low murmuring tone under the ringing in his ears. But not enough to make out words. 

“Sorry, Steve,” he said, gesturing at his ears, “I can’t hear a damn thing.”

His own voice sounded like a distant fog-horn in his head, blaring and indistinct. 

Steve knelt down in front of him, reaching out to rest a careful hand on Danny’s jaw and turn his head to the side. The same low hum came, accompanied by his mouth moving. 

“I blew my eardrums out on the way down to the bottom. Felt like my head was going to explode.”

He glanced sideways at Steve, who was bent close to examine his left ear. After a moment Steve pulled back, his grey eyes stormy. He nodded towards the car and reached out to take Danny’s hand; together they rose. The world tipped alarmingly, blue sea pivoting towards the sky. Steve grabbed hold of him and held him until he steadied, then passed his arm around Danny and walked him down the pier towards the beach. Danny was still sopping wet but Steve didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to mind his side being soaked. 

Even with balmy weather it was cold standing in a suit of wet clothes. As soon as he got to the car Danny stripped off his suit jacket and tie, bundling them into the back seat of the Mercury. It didn’t do anything to warm him, although at least inside the car he was out of the breeze. He sat hunched down in the front seat, working consciously to resist the urge to cover his aching ears with his hands. 

He didn’t notice Steve get in beside him; his first awareness of his superior’s presence was Steve’s warm hand on his shoulder. He looked over and saw Steve give him a questioning thumbs up, which he returned with a pained smile. Steve nodded, slipped the keys into the ignition, and started the car.

  
***

Queen’s hospital was bustling. The parking lot was full of cars and people hurrying on their way, the sidewalk packed with patients and visitors. Danny, head still spinning and now feeling chilled, looked out the window in apprehension. He didn’t feel up to dealing with a crowd; he just wanted to get into some dry clothes and crawl into his bed.

Steve parked the car and got out; Danny put his hand on the door handle but made it no further; sitting up sent a wave of dizziness through him that tugged at his unsettled stomach. He closed his eyes, and so felt rather than saw Steve open his door. He let go of the handle and looked up; Steve was watching him with the tightness in the corners of his eyes that was the closest he usually got to showing concern. 

“I’m fine, Steve,” he said, with more confidence than he felt. Steve gave him a wry smile; Danny could imagine his voice in his head: _Sure you are, Danno_. “Okay, maybe a little shaky,” he amended, and saw Steve’s smile soften into a more genuine one. He reached in and took Danny’s elbow, helping him out of the car.

The soft breeze felt raw as a razor as it slipped into his ears, causing him to stumble into Steve who took his weight without difficulty. He winced up towards Steve, caught the blinding sun full in the face instead, and turned his gaze downward. 

Stepping inside into the shaded and windless foyer was a relief. He let Steve lead the way – familiar to any member of the police – through the hospital and to the Emergency Examination rooms. 

He sat in a plastic-backed chair, uncomfortably aware of his dampness, while Steve met with first a nurse, then a doctor, his face tense as he spoke and occasionally gestured towards Danny. The ringing in Danny’s ears was fading slowly, replaced by a kind of thick wall of soundlessness; on the other side of it he could hear the boom of Steve’s voice, but couldn’t make out individual words. 

The doctor came over and gestured at him to follow; Danny stood with one hand on the back of the chair to steady himself, then followed the white-coated man through a doorway into a small examination room. He sat on the exam table, immediately soaking an imprint of himself into the paper sheet that covered the cushion, and watched the doctor pull the otoscope down from its slot on the wall. He flicked the light on and raised it; Danny turned his head and let the doctor check first one ear, then the other. Once finished he waited for Danny to turn his head back towards him, then spoke. Danny could hear the low hum of his voice, some syllables pronounced more strongly than others, but the sense of it eluded him.

“I can hear your voice, Doc, but not the words.”

The doctor nodded and produced a pad of paper. He composed a short message, then passed it over to Danny. 

_Both eardrums are ruptured. Time to heal: 3+ weeks. Hearing should be fully recovered._

Danny nodded, then closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness rolled over him. When he opened them again he saw he had crushed the pad of paper in his hand; he returned it sheepishly. “Sorry.” His own voice had the muffled, indistinct blare of a distant foghorn.

The doctor motioned him towards the door; Danny slipped down slowly from the exam table and followed him, careful of his balance. Outside Steve was waiting; his eyes flashed first to Danny, then the doctor. The two of them spoke for a minute, then Steve nodded. He pulled out his own pad of paper, wrote out a few lines, and passed them over. 

_Bergman will want to check you out. The doc’s giving him a call. After that, I’ll take you home._

“I can get a cab, Steve,” he replied, passing back Steve’s notepad. Steve shook his head and, with Danny unable to argue the point, that was that.

  
***

Steve took a few calls while they waited, standing at the payphone on the wall while Danny huddled in a waiting room chair wrapped in a scratchy hospital blanket. His ears had mostly stopped aching and the nausea had subsided, but he felt more chilled than before, felt distant and out of touch with the busy hospital corridor. He looked down at his nails and found no blueness in the nailbeds, no pallor to his skin. But cold penetrated him all the same, sinking its icy teeth into his bones.

He didn’t notice the low hum of a voice addressed to him until the figure that had stopped in front of him laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Bergman looking down. He considered Danny for a moment then turned to Steve and said something, gesturing down at Danny. Steve frowned and replied, the sharpness of his tone audible even through the wall of soundlessness that separated Danny from the external world. 

Bergman turned back to Danny and clapped a hand on his shoulder, pulling him up. Danny struggled to rise, limbs curiously unresponsive, as though numbed by the cold. He stumbled forward, lost his balance, and would have tumbled into the far wall if Steve hadn’t caught him. 

Danny straightened slowly and felt Bergman take his arm on the other side; together the two men walked him into the exam room. He sat back down on the table and stared at his shoes while Bergman checked his ears, then his breathing and pulse. He and Steve had a short conversation while Danny sat there, feeling a mile apart from them. He had no interest in the conversation; he just wanted to lie down and sleep. 

Finally Bergman turned back and wrote out a short message in a sharp spiky hand: _You’ve got a touch of shock. Steve will take you home. You’re on sick leave until further notice._

Danny read the lines without really taking them in. He felt distant, as though he were back under the waves, where light and sound didn’t fully reach. He looked up and felt Bergman pull the paper from his hands, his fingers loosening to surrender it from his grip. Steve was watching him with an assessing look, the kind he used to sum up the veracity of suspects’ stories. “I can go?” asked Danny. Bergman nodded. 

They both helped him up to his feet, Steve retaining his grip on Danny’s shoulder as they walked slowly out of the exam room and down the hospital corridor. Bergman disappeared at some point; all Danny could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other, keeping his weight evenly dispersed to maintain his balance. 

They passed out the doors into the bright sunlight, Steve directing him towards the parking lot with a light pressure on his shoulder. They made it to the car without incident, Danny hunkering down in the passenger seat and closing his eyes.

  
***

He didn’t remember much of the trip home; Steve must have helped him out of the car, gotten him up the elevator and into his apartment. He stripped out of his now nearly dry clothes and into a dry pair of slacks and a loose shirt. By the time he was crawling into bed Steve had arrived with a cup of steaming tea – chamomile, the only kind in his kitchen.

Danny sat in bed and drank the tea, too tired to argue. Steve disappeared, only to reappear with a heavy blanket that hardly ever saw any use; he draped it over Danny, who stared down at it blankly. “It’s summer, Steve,” he said slowly, but didn’t try to push it off. Steve made no reply, just sat himself down on a rattan chair in the corner of the room and picked up a book on sailing that must have come from the shelf out in the living room. 

When Danny had finished he put the mug down on the bedside table and curled up under the covers. He was asleep in minutes.

  
***

He awoke in a sea of confusion, ears aching and mouth dry. He felt disoriented and out of place, and not sure why. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes and found himself in his own bed that he remembered what had happened – the raid, the boat, the harbour. And George Addams, lying on the pier being worked on by two HPD officers.

Danny sat up sharply and saw a mirrored movement off to one side – Steve, settled down in the chair lowering a book. He put the book on the dresser and stood, stepping over. 

“You’re still here,” said Danny, running a hand through his hair. He looked down at his wrist to find his watch had stopped. “How long was I asleep?”

Steve turned, picked up the light chair, and in one swoop brought it over to sit by the bedside. He took a seat and pulled out his notepad, dashing off a quick figure – _2._

“Two hours. You should’ve gone back to the office – I’m fine.”

Steve gave him a smile and shook his head. He wrote another line: _I need your statement._

“My – George Addams,” he said, stiffening. “How is he – is he…?”

Steve’s face hardened. This time the pen moved more slowly across the page. _He’s alive. He was without oxygen too long. Docs don’t know if he’ll make it. He’ll be damaged, if he does._

“Oh God.” A memory of the chill in his bones returned and he shivered. “When we arrived he was standing on the bow of the ship, Steve, with this jerry can strapped to his chest. Must’ve weighed 40 pounds. When they saw us coming down the pier they shoved him overboard and got ready to pull the ship out. I went right in after George, left Lou to lead the charge on the ship. I managed to get down to him, but the weight was sinking him like an anchor; burst my eardrums before I even had my knife out. By the time I sawed through the straps he was almost out of air. Getting him back to the surface…” Danny shook his head. “For a minute, I wasn’t sure we would make it. I guess not both of us did,” he finished, quietly. 

Steve was scratching something else out; Danny waited for the message: _Not your fault, Danno._

Danny sighed. “Easier said than believed.”

He’d grown up spending every free moment of every day in the water – swimming, surfing, diving. He practically had salt water in his veins, and he knew better than anyone how cruel the sea could be. But to lose a boy he’d dragged from the water himself, to have been too slow… that was hard to accept.

_Believe it, Danno. That he’s here at all is thanks to you._

Danny sighed again, but with a lighter heart. “Thanks, Steve.” He ran his fingers along his cheekbone to his ear, hardly hearing the whisper of skin over skin. “Guess I’m out of the picture for a few weeks.”

Steve nodded. _Bergman will check in on you regularly._

“That’s something to look forward to,” replied Danny dryly. Steve gave him a wry smile. Danny threw off the covers and slid his feet out of bed. “You can get back to the office now, Steve; I’m fine.”

Steve gave him another assessing look, then nodded. He wrote a final message: _I’ll send Chin over with some chow later._

“Thanks.” Danny got up, feeling just a twinge of dizziness, and escorted Steve to the door. As the door opened he paused. “Steve?” 

Steve looked back questioningly. 

“Thanks for keeping an eye on me.”

Steve clasped his shoulder, nodding, and Danny could almost hear his voice: _Anytime, Danno._

END


End file.
